


Night Bloomers

by Leni



Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: Childhood Sweethearts, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-18
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni/pseuds/Leni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in <span class="u">Kushiel's Dart</span>. Phédre and Hyacinthe, before the legends started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Bloomers

**Author's Note:**

> _Written for[The Doomed 'Ship Comment Ficathon](http://anythingbutgrey.livejournal.com/760101.html?thread=11322405#t11373861)._

He loves her for her playful smile, this girl not a girl anymore. He loves her like he loves his freedom, like the half-lies flowing from his tongue in exchange for a golden coin.

 

( _he buys her flowers once_ )

 

She loves him, he knows.

She loves him better; she loves him most. She loves him because he _is_ her freedom, he is the lie she won’t speak about.

 

( _she sleeps with the flower pressed against her nose_ )

 

It is real, that love.

Children playing at hearts.

 

( _the next morn, she leaves the flower next to her pillow_ )

 

“You and me, Phédre,” he laughs one afternoon, one arm around her as he parades his ebony jewel through Night’s Doorstep. “With your beauty and my wits, we’ll rule the City.”

“You and me,” she repeats, rests her head against his shoulder. “Have you seen it, Hyacinthe?”

No.

He shrugs, instead. “Trust me. Have I ever lied to you?”

She laughs, then, the sound fresh and young. “Not to me, no.”

For that moment he dares to believe. Calls a flower girl over, gives her a flirting grin and a small coin for her freshest rose. “Milady,” he says.

She almost blushes, takes it and lets the petals caress his cheeks and nose before pinning it to her hair.

It feels like a promise.

 

( _the next night, the flower is gone_

\- what happened? -  
\- didn’t you see? it was wilted already -)

 

It is real, that promise.

Aren't flowers real, too?

 

The End  
14/09/10


End file.
